


A Diamond Tint

by xfandomwritingsx



Category: The Expendables (Movies)
Genre: F/M, age gap
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:01:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26651839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xfandomwritingsx/pseuds/xfandomwritingsx
Summary: Learning Christmas is engaged was not part of your evening plans.
Relationships: Lee Christmas/Reader, Lee Christmas/You
Comments: 8
Kudos: 28





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> So this is something I've kept hidden away for quite a while. I'm throwing this first part out here to see if there's any interest.

You hear his motorcycle from a few streets away, the familiar rev bringing a smile to your face. You finish tying your hair back and shimmy into your jeans, leaving your t-shirt untucked. You’d only arrived a few hours earlier, this being your first chance it change into some relaxing clothes for the evening. You’re looking forward to the night, always happy to be back with the guys, just drinking and shooting the shit. There’s not much else that feels straight-up like home.

You wait until you can hear the garage door opening and his motorcycle pulling in before you make your way back to everyone. You pause at the top of the stairs, looking over the railing for him. He’s already pulled his helmet off and swung his leg over his bike, walking to approach the guys.

“I thought I heard Christmas was coming early this year,” you called to him. He looks around for a moment, surprised by the sound of your voice. When his eyes land on you at the top of your stairs, there’s a smile on his face. You start to descend, letting your hand slide along the rail as you keep your eyes on him.

“Darling, every woman knows I _never_ come early.” The innuendo in his voice is clear and brings a wide smile on your face while the rest of the guys holler or whistle in response. They’re no stranger to your flirting. Hell, you’ve been doing it for years. Barney, however, still cringes.

“Hey now,” he scolds. “Still my daughter, yeah?” You roll your eyes at him, but Lee doesn’t even turn to acknowledge he said anything. Barney just takes another drink from his beer with an annoyed look on his face.

“It’s good to see you, Christmas,” you tell him in a more conversational tone. You come up to him and throw your arms around his neck.

“You too, slugger.” He returns your hug and the woodsy smell of his aftershave fills you senses. Another familiar sensation of home. The leather of his jacket is chilled from the ride over, but you can feel the heat of him seep through when the hug lasts a little longer than it should. “What are you doing here?” he asks when you finally break apart. You motion over to Barney as you step away.

“Pops needs my help,” you explain.

“Hold on a minute,” he chimes in, holding up his hand. “Who came to who?” You cock your hip out and smile playfully at your father.

“I brought you a target and told you that you’d need my help if you went after him. And you are. So you need me.” This time it’s his turn to roll your eyes, knowing better than to try to argue with you. He raised one hell of a smart and stubborn ass woman. It has both its benefits and downsides. You turn your attention back to Lee with a tilt of your head. “Ready for a drink?” He gives a nod.

“Always.”

The first part of the night passes easily just like it has every time you remember. You’ve been around these men since you were a teenager and officially got into the business, popping in and out on jobs in your twenties. These nights are a lot of alcohol and a lot of casual bullshitting. Knives get thrown. Trash talk gets spewed. And occasionally there’s some light to heavy flirting between you and Christmas.

You grew up with a crush on him. Everyone knew it because as a typical young girl, you didn’t exactly hide it well. He was always polite about it, never harshly shooting you down, but also never leading you on. And then you weren’t around for a couple of years. You’d gone out on your own, training and doing some solo jobs to prove yourself to your father, who still tried to push you away from this life. When you came back, you came back a different person; matured with some blood on your hands. And suddenly he wasn’t looking at you the same as he did before.

You bonded easily, quickly. Instead of refusing your requests to teach you to throw knives, now he’d offer without prompting. You stayed up late a lot of nights just talking. You gelled together during jobs. You were friends as much as you were family. The flirting just followed naturally with your personalities.

Everyone believes it’s a harmless habit and doesn’t bat an eye at it, except Barney once in a while, but that’s mostly out of obligation. For the most part, they’re right. Nothing’s ever happened between you and you never suspect it will, but for you, at least, there’s still that deep rooted desire for it to come to fruition. There are some nights where you think that just maybe, he does too. Like when you’re alone and he drops the too-kid-like nickname of Slugger in favor of the slightly-inappropriate Babygirl.

Tonight though, the subtle winks across the room and blatant smiles back and forth are interrupted by the mention of Lacy, whom he’s apparently still seeing. You choke down the beer you’d been swallowing and wave a hand to stop the conversation from moving on as you take your propped up foot off the table you’re perched on.

“Hold on! You’re still with that woman?” you ask in disbelief.

“Yeah.” You can hear the slight defensiveness coming out. “So what?”

“God, Christmas! Why?” It’s hard to keep your disgust from your voice and the little smiles at the ground from the rest of the team don’t escape you. “She’s one of those girls that just thinks it’s cool to have a _bad boy_ boyfriend.” You cringe at just the thought of her and take another swig of your beer.

“Fiancé,” he corrects just a hair quieter than before.

“Shit!” Is he kidding? “You’re really going to _marry_ her?” There’s a pit in your stomach now and your disbelieved smile starts to fade, the humor bleeding away.

“That’s the plan,” he confirms. You chew your bottom lip and look away, unsure what else to say. You’re still trying to process the very idea of him marrying that woman if you’re honest. “What’s with the look?” he asks pointedly. “The hell’s your problem?” You take a second and simply shrug.

“Look, you’re family just like the rest of these upstanding gentlemen.” You wave your hand holding your beer out to room. A couple of them chuckle and raise their own drinks to you. “I don’t like when family’s being stupid and you? You’re acting pretty fucking stupid right now.” You hop off the table and chug the rest of your beer, ignoring the way his face scrunches up. “Anyone else need a refill?” The question works to break the tense silence and move the conversation elsewhere.

His eyes still watch you and there’s an uncomfortable tension that replaces the light, friendly feel you normally have. You try to ignore it, but at the end of the night when the music’s died down and you’re gathering glasses and bottles into the kitchen sink, he comes up behind you.

“What’s wrong with Lacy?” You sigh heavily, but don’t turn around to face him. You think about it for a few moments, trying to find the words you want. Once you’ve gathered your thoughts, you spin on your heels and place your hands on the counter now behind you.

“Does she even know you?” you ask softly. You’re trying really hard not to sound aggressive or accusatory, which is hard to do after consuming alcohol.

“Of course she does!” he scoffs and throws his head back. His defensive reaction irritates you.

“Yeah? Does she know your kill rate?” That seems to stop him and the answer is clear on his face. You continue before he can refute you. “She ever see you after a mission gone wrong? Patch you up?” You suspect the answer to that is also no because he’s been known to show up at the door of your apartment regularly to have _you_ help patch him. “She ever see your face after you got the shit beat out of you in Slovakia or did you hide that from her?” His face is stiffening, his jaw starting to grind, but you’re not done. “She know that your left ankle pops all the damn time because you broke it being a show off and jumping off a waterfall in the jungle in your twenties?” You point down to the offending appendage and he tries to resist the urge to roll it. You pause as he soaks in your words and when he doesn’t come back at you, you try again a little softer. “You want a partner in life but she can’t be that when she doesn’t know you. She seriously believes her badass boyfriend-”

“Fiancé,” he corrects and you roll your eyes.

“Whatever. She thinks you just go on exotic trips and punch bad guys.”

“Sometimes I do that.” It’s hard not to laugh at him being a smartass, but you manage.

“Don’t be an idiot,” you tell him, the words half a plea as much as a demand. You don’t want him to make a mistake and you can feel it in your gut that she would be. “Do you know what she does when you’re gone for months at a time?” His face snaps back to the angry, defensive and points a finger at you.

“She’s not cheating on me.” It sounds harsh, demanding, like he’s telling himself, reminding him as much as he is trying to convince you.

“Bullshit,” you spit. “Pops has said it, now I’m gonna say it. It’s in her blood.” Why can’t he see this? All the signs are there in his face and instead he buries his head in the sand and buys a damn diamond ring. “You ever come home early and she ain’t there?” He looks away from you and the look in his eyes answers the question, just like it always does. “Never wondered where she was?” you press gently.

“Ya know,” he breathes heavily before turning his head back to you. “You shouldn’t be such a bitch just because you got a little crush on me.” There’s not nearly as much bite and malice in his tone as there are his words. You throw your head back and scoff at him anyways.

“Do you really want to stop and examine who checks who out when I’m in town?” He tries to hide a smile, but it cracks through and he tilts his head with a shrug, not really having a defense for that. It allows both of you to slip back into a less prickly atmosphere. “Look,” you start again. “I’m not trying to be a bitch.” You reach forward and grab his arm, curling your fingers around his bicep and squeezing gently. “I just care about you and this girl is nothing but trouble.” He rolls his eyes away from you, but doesn’t move away from your grip. “Everyone knows it, I’m just the one saying it.” You can tell the conversation is over when he doesn’t offer a response and doesn’t turn his eyes back to you. So you give his arm a pat and go to leave.


	2. Part Two

It’s nearly two months later, well after the job’s done and you’ve gone back home when there’s a knock at your door sometime after midnight. When you look through the peephole and see Lee’s familiar face hidden in the shadows of a dark hood, you tuck your gun back into your waistband and open the door.

“Hello babygirl,” he greets smoothly, despite the split lip with dried blood on it. His hood tries to hide bruising on his face and by the way he’s leaning on the doorframe, hand clutching his ribs, you can tell he’s had a hell of a day.

“Get in here,” you sigh. Stepping back from the door, you give a nod of your head to coax him to get his ass inside. “Shirt off,” you tell him as you close the door behind you and slide the coat closet door open to grab your med kit from the top shelf.

“One of these days I’m going to make you buy me dinner before you take my clothes off,” he calls from the living room, already settling himself into the comfort of your couch like he’s done too many times before. You return to watch him grimace as he starts to lifts his shirt off his head, his coat already shed onto the armrest.

“Shut up and hold still,” you scold with a roll of your eyes. You open the med kit on the coffee table and sit down next to him, turning your focus to his ribs. He lifts his arm to allow you to gently poke and prod at him, examining the purple bruising. When you’ve assessed the damage enough for your liking and determined the ribs aren’t broken, you grab his arm and slowly lower it back to his side. You lean forward to rifle through your kit for some gauze and alcohol to clean his face.

“You were right,” he says roughly as you grab his chin and turn his face forward.

“Usually am.” You’re more focused on dabbing the cut on his cheek and trying to decipher how deep it is than what he’s saying. “What about this time?” He winces at the sting and you pull away, back to your kit. “I’m going to need to stitch that.”

“Don’t you dare,” he snaps, gently smacking your hand away from grabbing at the thread. “You suck at stitches.” Your jaw hangs open at him, slightly offended even though you know he’s not totally wrong. “I’ve still got the scar on my thigh from when you stitched me up with bloody fishing wire.”

“It’s all I had!” you defend with a small laugh.

“I’ll do it myself later.” He leans back on the couch, satisfied when you come back with a butterfly bandage instead of a needle and thread.

“Turn,” you direct him after applying the bandage to his cheek. Giving a gentle push on his shoulder to guide him, he turns to face the armrest of the couch so that his back, full of scratches and bruises, is facing you. Using a clean towel and a bottle of water, you start to clean the blood off of him. “So what was I right about?” you ask as you work. He hesitates before answering.

“I went home before I came here,” he says a little more quietly, head tilted down. Your fingers still for just a moment, but you stay silent, waiting for him to continue. “Figured you had a point about hiding all this.” There’s a small shrug of his shoulder. “She wasn’t alone.” That stops your motions entirely.

“Shit,” you whisper. It’s not surprising, but you know it still hurts him and you hate that.

“Yeah.” He turns his head to look at you, but his eyes can’t quite get to you at this angle. You pick up some clean gauze and tape and try to refocus your efforts on patching him up.

“I don’t actually enjoy being right about these kinds of things.” You apply the tape carefully. The largest gauze pad you have doesn’t cover the entirety of his scratches, but it does enough of them to satisfy you. “You alright?” you ask carefully, unsure how or even if he wants to talk about it.

“Doesn’t hurt any more than my ribs do,” he jokes dryly.

“Well if you actually wore your vest properly with the insert I got you, your ribs wouldn’t hurt as bad,” you playfully scold, finishing up on his back.

“I told you. It restricts movement.”

“Well quit complaining then.” You put your hands on his shoulders and tip upwards to get close to his ear. “Or better yet, quit getting shot at,” you tease.

“I’ll work on that.” You chuckle and scooch away, giving him room to face front again. You fiddle with your kit, piling up used rags and wrappers on the table and slipping unused materials back into their designated places. You see him shake his shirt out a little and notice the blood stains on it.

“I’ve got some clothes you can wear,” you tell him.

“So what does it mean,” he starts with a false confidence in his voice, fiddling with the ruined shirt in his hands. “That I’m not feeling too bad about walking away **?”** You try not to make your surprise too obvious and keep putting your things away.

“No?” You give him a questioning look and stand up with your closed med kit. He raises his voice so you can hear him as you go to put it away and grab him a plain black t-shirt.

“I had some time to think on the way over.” It’s almost a two and a half hour drive to get to your place so you can only imagine everything his mind went over. You stay quiet and let him continue. “I thought she was what I wanted. Nice girl to settle down with. Pretend to have a normal life.” You come back to the living room and he takes the t-shirt you’ve brought.

“But?” you prod gently when he hesitates again.

“I settled for her because I thought she was the best I could do.” It’s hard to hold your tongue, to tell him something like _no shit, I could have told you that years ago dumbass_ but you manage to stay quiet again. “Maybe I never wanted to admit what I really wanted because I never thought I could actually have it.” He’s looking down at the shirt clenched in his fist and you casually cross your arms over your chest.

“And what is it you actually want?” His eyes slowly rise up to meet yours and there’s a look in them you’ve only ever imagined seeing before. Flirtation, teasing, fun; those had all been there, but the way his eyes dip down to your mouth show an unmistakable desire for the first time. Your legs go numb. “No.” Your arms uncross and you point a sharp finger at him. “No, not now.” You are practically scolding him, but if you don’t, then you’re going to end up in his lap and one of you needs to be a responsible adult at the moment. “We’re not- _you’re_ not doing this right now.” You shake your finger at him for emphasis, but it’s not deterring his heated look. You huff and find yourself stepping away from him. “You just ended a long term relationship, an engagement,” you remind him. “Just like your ribs, it’s going to hurt a lot more in the morning. You need time to heal from it all before you give me that look.” Your internal confliction turns external and you start plucking all the bloody rags off the table and into your arms. “Do you understand?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, eyes dropping with disappointment. “I hear you.” He shuffles the shirt in his hands and starts to carefully slip it over his head. A thought occurs to you as you drop the rags into the nearby trash can.

“ _Did_ you end it?” you ask. “Or did you just sneak out and she doesn’t know yet?” His head pokes through the shirt and glances at you with a slight guilt in his eyes. “Lee!” you shout, resisting the urge to roll your eyes at him. “Okay, step one; actually tell her it’s over, you jackass.” You retreat one more time into the hall to grab the spare blanket and pillow, knowing he’s going to crash on your couch.

“I’ll work on it!” he yells back to you.

You pause at the closet for a moment to breathe. The hell are you supposed to do now? He’d been off limits in just about every way for as long as you can remember and now he just… wasn’t? You aren’t exactly prepared for that. Not to mention there’s a happiness you’re struggling to repress because _thank god_ he wasn’t going to marry that woman, but in the same thread, you don’t like Lee getting hurt in the process.

You take another breath and squeeze the pillow and blanket close to your chest for a moment before carrying it back to him on the couch. He nods in thanks when you extend them out towards him.

“Hey,” he says firmly, putting his hands over yours around the bedding and holding you in place. Flutters in your stomach cause a slight heat in your face as he demands your focus. “If you’re worried about being a rebound, don’t be.” Words are caught in your throat and you don’t even nod your head. His hands slide across yours to grab the fabric of the bedding and take it from you. “I ain’t looking for just a bit of fun.” He tilts his head just a little. “Never was with you.” You swallow roughly and fail to form words. He smiles at you and puts the bedding in his lap. “Thanks for these.”

All you can mutter is a feeble, “Yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this isn’t a popular one of mine, but some people out there enjoy it so I’m going to finish it. Likes and comments mean a lot more to me on these little, lesser liked pieces!
> 
> Feeling super generous? Buy me a coffee!  
> https://ko-fi.com/writerashley
> 
> Keep up with my progress on Instagram! https://www.instagram.com/thatfandomwriter/


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